


Shimmer of Gold

by Bakkichan



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drunk Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, mentions of drinking, no betas we saunter vaguely downwards like crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-12 03:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakkichan/pseuds/Bakkichan
Summary: Crowley notices hours into a rather large bout of drinking heavily into the night  that Aziraphale has a small gold ring on his right pinky finger.... Crowley cursed the blind jealously building in him, wanting his angel to only wear gold he’d given him.





	Shimmer of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> I- Uh- I may not have written a proper fanfic in about 10 years, so of course these two are what eventually drag it out of me. This was first written as a headcanon, turned drabble, turned mini fic. I might add more parts to this because I've fallen so deeply in love with this book/show.

Crowley notices hours into a rather large bout of drinking heavily into the night[1] that Aziraphale has a small gold ring on his right pinky finger. Now, he knows this is very common for angels. All angels seem to have some gold on them, either in Heaven or on Earth, whether it’s on their skin or person. Akin to demons having animalistic features.[2]

He, of course, knows that Aziraphale has always worn it, even from the very beginning when they both stood side-by-side at the Garden. He does remember it being the only personal item the newly made angel had. However, he had somehow never truly noticed it or marveled at its details and craftsmanship. The soft glint and shine it had. Very small and unnoticeable scratches on its surface from many a millennium of wear. The leaves that seemed to curl so beautifully and how it seemed so big, and yet, the perfect size on his angel’s finger. How the design seemed to capture Aziraphale so perfectly. Old and timeless, yet delicate and soft.

He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the alcohol flooding his mind or the more primal demonic part of him that caused him to tear his eyes away from the ethereal being besides him. But either way, it infuriated him. Crowley cursed the blind jealously building in him, wanting his angel to only wear gold he’d given him. Not one given by Heaven, assigned in just a passing thought- another piece of uniform that he’d been built to wear for all eternity, but by **HIM**. He knew he had no reason to feel this way, the two beings had already sat down after their failed executions and dinner at the Ritz and talked at last about the relationship between them. They had finally, after 6000 years of waiting, they had gone from hereditary enemies, to allies, to friends, to at last- lovers. He knew that Aziraphale loved him, not as a being of love who cared for all creatures, but as _Aziraphale_. And while Crowley could technically not love, he knew the feelings he held in his chest would be the closest to love that any being like him could ever feel. He knew that Aziraphale had chosen him and the Earth as his side and home[3].

He rubbed at his eyes, distantly remembering he had taken off his glasses at the angel’s request earlier that evening. Again Crowley knew he had no reason to cover them, as Aziraphale had seem them, long before he had taken up to wearing the darkened glass on his face. However, he felt especially exposed in situations like these, but he resisted the urge to miracle them back into place.

In hopes that perhaps these intrusive thoughts came from their unknown numbered of empty bottles that laid at their feet, Crowley began to slowly sober himself up. Enough to merely leave him with the gentle warm buzz in his chest. After realizing with both frustration, and a mix of interest, he waited a moment before he dared a glace to look at Aziraphale’s other hand. He paused imaging how a small gold band would look. Picturing a small diamond fitted flush to its surface, engravings of vines and stars, designed to look identical to ones that Crowley had designed long before he has ever met the angel. He pictured the surprise and love that would radiate from his angel as he moved to one knee. Holding his shaking hands in his own. Willing down tears he swears that he can’t shed, bearing his own heart and soul to the one being he could trust to not crush him. Wanting to spend an absolute eternity with this angel[4]. He stared fondly at Aziraphale, not being able to help the slight grin forming on his face as he wildly went on a large tangent about how yet another book seemed to be getting a movie or show adaptation, the latest customer to try and take another book from his beautiful collection, or how “no Crowley, bowties were cool long before the _Doctor Whom show"__**[5]**_ \- waving his hands for emphasis, making the ring simply dance in the light. He can’t help the laugh that spills from him, hushing and waving off the pouting angel who thought he was teasing him, when no it couldn't be farther from the truth. He could spend an absolute eternity just listening to him, hanging on his every word as if it were hi last. With a grin turned smile forming, Crowley decides then and there, tomorrow he’d make a special trip to a jewelry store.

[1] Both had believed this was more than a fair celebration after their wasted attempt at raising the Not-Antichrist, losing the actual Antichrist, giving a not so helpful (yet they deemed incredibly helpful) hand at stopping the apocalypse, and coming oh-so incredibly close to losing one another to their respective home offices. Of course, they had drunken to much lesser celebrations.

[2] He shudders to compare his Angel’s gold design to the like of Hastur’s frog companion. Really, there is no reason- drunk or not, for that demon to enter his mind while admiring his Angel.

[3] A part of Crowley’s chest absolutely _swelled _that Aziraphale would consider the demon as _home_ as well.

[4] despite his questionable fashion decisions, really, _tartan_?

[5] Crowley did not have it in him to correct the Angel on the show’s proper title, for really- it was utterly adorable how close, yet, wrong he was.

**Author's Note:**

> (ﾉ∀＼*) And that's it! Really short, but there you have it.  
If you liked it, have any criticisms or ideas please let me know! And if you love Good Omens, come scream at me on Twitter at @ Bakkichaan


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